#IVE just been sobbing for like. ten minutes

[blurglesmurfklaine]

mystery illness is covid for the third time this is honestly my thirteenth reason

[batemanofficial]

i hate doctors so goddamn much. why is there a note in my file that says "anxiety-induced hypertension. patient says she has ptsd but affect presentation is constitutionally normal" like yeah no shit sherlock i took two ativans in the car before i went in i sure fuckin hope i acted normal!!

[ghost-proofbaby]

september love (e.m.)

eddie finds you awake on the first night he's home from the hospital, and wonders what you're thinking.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of canon ending of season 4, except eddie didn't die. mentions of hospital and medical procedures (in passing). sort of sad, sort of not. a little bit of angst? hurt/comfort. religious imagery (specific mentions of heaven).

wc: 1.7k+

an: this was just some sort of weird rambling upon seeing the poem mentioned above at like 11 pm? 1 am? who knows. time is a construct. also, reader is compared to a 'violent' dog/animal during eddie's recovery, and if you like this metaphor/vibe, then i strongly suggest and urge you to go read @myosotisa's fic Half Life. she does it far more beautifully than i ever could, and it is one of my favorite fics. ever.

Your head is on his chest. 

Your temple and your ear are flush with the soft cotton of his wrinkled t-shirt, the one he insisted upon sleeping on his first night home, and it’s all you can think about. The smell of week old laundry, the stubborn linger of a cologne gifted too long ago to remember the worn name of. A steady heartbeat that still pumps along a little too slow for your liking. The rise and fall of each promised breath that you force your lungs to pace themselves with. Just enough heat radiating off of him to keep you warm, here in bed, here in the dim light of twilight as he rests.

No tubes and no IVs to worry about. No nurses barging in every ten minutes. No beeping of a dozen machines to be your symphony tonight. 

No, you don’t need a machine now to keep track of his heart rate. You’ve learned to do that entirely on your own; your heart has learned how to match his with each dulled thump against the skin you cling to through this dingy old t-shirt.

It can’t be long after 3 AM, the moonlight almost as bright as a rising sun as it peeks itself in through the curtains of the window, as if whispering to check if you might still be awake.

And you are. And all you can think about, is your head on his chest. 

It’s been over a month since you’ve had this type of moment with Eddie. A moment where you’re truly, sincerely, utterly alone with him. Privacy had become a delicacy that you weren’t aware of the fragility of. You hadn’t understood its importance until you had to bask in its absence, always on edge for the next body to walk into the room and take the air out of your lungs. Always anxious for the next sound of news, always worried for the next shoe to drop. 

You’d forgotten what it had felt like for Eddie to twitch his fingers along your spine in his sleep, and for you to be the only witness to his quiet worship, even unconscious. 

Your lips part, and you almost consider whispering hard truths into the trembling night air. There’s a million and one dying words cementing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, and you know that every single one you could even manage to utter would only make you sound like a broken record. 

I’m sorry this happened to you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent it. 

All things already said to him when he had been drifting in and out of consciousness in that hospital bed. All apologies already buried between muted sobs as you’d clutched his knuckles a little tighter than you should have, a little too selfish in the moment to wonder if it might be hurting him. The only thing on your mind had been keeping him, holding him, feeling him. He was alive – he was alive. And for the first seven nights of his endless rest, all you could wonder is for just how much longer that desperate prayer could ring true.

Would he leave you again? Would he lose the fight? 

You can’t recall without bias which one of you had been the true wounded animal in that little room, scented with burning bleach and cacophonies of nearby patients just beyond the curtains. 

Eddie, looking up at the police who had finally come once he woke, eyes big and teary as he’d tried to wrap his head around his new reality.

You, baring teeth and claws at them in the end, ready to bite hard at anyone who got too close.

It wasn’t just the police. It was everyone. 

It was the same juxtaposition between the two of you at those nurses who would interrupt the nights, always frowning so dutifully at the sight of your carefully curled figure at Eddie’s side. When friends and family came to visit, and they all had the same look of disbelief. As if they were about to tell you that you had imagined it all; he hadn’t survived, he hadn’t come back to you, you were imagining it. You’d been all bark and awaiting bite towards Steve Harrington and the newly revived Jim Hopper, all the same. Their figures bore no difference to you when it came to protecting what was so holy to you. Him, Eddie, here and alive. Eddie, who slept enough for the both of you those nights. The pain in your back from all the uncomfortable hours spent in that little chair at his bedside was insignificant, all the headaches you’d endured from the smell of iodine that still clung to the air after every surgery were pitiful attempts at the Universe removing you from him. 

If you could, you might try to recall your reaction when Dustin Henderson had babbled on through tears as to what had happened to Eddie when the two were left alone. His final act of heroism, or so he thought. 

But you can’t. Right here, right now, you aren’t capable of living in the past. You’ve been haunted enough these last few weeks, and all your numb mind can handle is counting the beats of his heart. Like the rhythm of a song – 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. Staccato verses that you sometimes whisper in time, getting worried when they don’t follow the infallible metronome you’ve set for him. 

“You’re still awake.”

The murmur of his voice is a drink of cold water, startling in the dark greys and blues wrapping the two of you up. 

You lift your head ever so slightly against your better judgment, “Go back to sleep, love.” 

“Touche.” 

You can see his grin even through the shadows. It’s weak, not yet quite as vibrant as it once had been, but it’s there. He’s still alive. He’s still grinning. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” The pads of his fingertips are more intentional against your spine now, longer strokes and mindless shapes, “I’ve got a penny in my pocket if you tell me.”

His words are only slightly slurred. Probably residual of the pain medication they’d prescribed him.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” you say, and you mean it.

You hadn’t been thinking. You had just been listening to his heart and his breaths, feeling the weight of him beneath you. 

Little things you had taken for granted once upon a time. Never again, your soul aches as you let your head drop back to his chest carefully. Never again.

“You’re just laying awake, not thinking about anything, at…” he trails off, turning his cheek and squinting in the direction of the alarm clock across the room. The glow is dim, and you know you’ll have to change the batteries soon, “Four in the morning?”

4 AM. Last you had checked, it had been 3 AM. You hadn’t even noticed an hour had passed. 

“Is that really so hard to believe?” you smile up at him, and it’s just as sincere as your words had been. When his honey brown eyes meet yours, warmth drizzles down your entire being. Across your brain, down your spine, wrapping around your limbs. You could spend an eternity here, simmering in his warmth, content to your heart’s fullest capability. 

You’d almost lost him. You’d almost lost this warmth. 

You take a second to memorize his features. Studying him as if you didn’t already know every curvature, every freckle, every winkle better than you knew your own soul. You’re looking at him as if you may never look at him again, and he can tell. 

He doesn’t have to say that he gets it. His hand simply wanders up to cup your face, basking in you as you were him. Two souls, intertwining over overlapping legs and synchronized heartbeats, and he doesn’t have to say a word. 

The moment his fingers card into your baby hairs, you’re turning your mouth quickly to that warm palm. One, two, three kisses. Quick pecks, rapid succession. A secret language that you know he, and only ever he, can begin to understand. 

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. 

It drowns out all sorrow, all guilt, all hauntings. Your cracked lips, and the feeling of those lines across his palms. If there is a Heaven, it’s not somewhere in a pearly gated kingdom above. There are no hark angels and there is no bearded man awaiting. 

It’s here. It’s now. It’s 4 AM, in bed with your lover, getting to experience moments you’d come so close to losing for eternity. 

Do the poets know? They must. All the love, all the adoration, in both your bodies is too abundant for them to not feel it. To not write about it. 

“Go back to bed, love,” you repeat almost a perfect imitation of your first command when he had awakened, and this time, his eyelids flutter with your words, “I’m not gonna disappear between now and sunrise. I promise.” 

“No,” he quickly whispers back as his eyes fully shut, and your palms smooth out the wrinkles of the shirt to feel the ridges of scars hidden for now. Scars he’s ashamed of, for now. Scars you’d one day show all the love in the world to, sacred proof that he came back to you, only once he was ready. One day. “But you’re looking at me like I might.”

His words are heavy in the shades of violet now sinking into the room. But the moon is high in her sky, and the crickets are chirping to the East, and he’s right.

You’re terrified the daylight will steal him from you. You’re terrified the new day might tear away all that you’ve sunk your teeth into. 

“I’m not going to,” he mumbles around a yawn, arms slowly encasing you, pulling you in closer, “I’m not going anywhere. Yeah?” 

He’s back with that warmth, coaxing you right back into heavenly notions with him. You let him; he baits you, and you follow. 

“Yeah.”

It’s a sigh. Of hopefulness, of relief, of belief. 

This time, the I love you is more than a prayer repeated in your mind. And he somehow manages to say it back, just as he begins to slip back under. Still holding you and hands still twitching where they rest against your back. 

Let daylight come. You aren’t capable of worrying about it, or stressing about all that has happened. You aren’t capable of thinking about anything right now, because only one thing matters as your temple and ear find his heartbeat once more. 

Your head is on his chest.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea@kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria@loveryanax@stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo@findmeincorneliastreet

[mywifeismothman]

THIS IS KILLING ME.

I picked up tbhk in 2021 thinking it was a silly monster of the week style supernatural comedy. Oh my god, how AidaIro has tricked me. I should have turned back before I got too invested, but tbhk is a part of me now, I think I’d die without it.

IVE BEEN SOBBING FOR THE PAST TEN MINUTES AT MIDNIGHT OVER CHAPTER 120!

Spoiler warning for chapter 120 (read it if you haven’t already and suffer with me):

After chapter 119, this world’s Kou and Mitsuba were basically killed in the red house, once again proving that those two can literally never be happy. When Kou said he’d die for Mitsuba in that one chapter, I don’t think this is what he meant.

But when he says he can’t help them go back, I can’t figure out if he’s talking about Mitsuba or the fact that he’s stuck in the red house. Probably both, as he says something later which implies he’s talking about Mitsuba.

Mostly the red house though, as shown in these panels. Which hit me really hard for some reason.

I started sobbing when I saw these panels though,

Just look at his face, there’s something about the shading and detail in his face which captivates you. Watching the one character who is so fixated on trying to have everyone live die was so heart wrenching.

The parallel between this panel and chapter 118 is killing me. In that chapter, Mitsuba and Kou talk about their bad dreams, ones of the old world where Mitsuba is dead. They don’t want to accept that any of those dreams could be real, promising to each other to live their lives to the fullest, only accepting the dreams as real if they failed to forget.

In this chapter, Mitsuba and Kou were never able to live a life where they could ignore those dreams, almost immediately getting killed. So to Kou, he now had to accept those dreams, with their new reality becoming the bad dream he tells Nene to forget.

This panel also killed me.

He’s clearly talking about Mitsuba, who else could he be talking about. Again showing just how much he means to him. Again, it reminds me of the chapter where Kou talks about dying for Mitsuba, showing that he’ll always be there for him, even in death.

I also want to just talk about poor Nene, look at this panel:

This is the second time that one of her only living friends has had some connection with death, but this is the first time one has straight up disappeared before her eyes. This whole ark has Nene being tormented by death and loss and I hate it.

I wanna touch on Teru quickly. I’ve never loved characters with his type of personality before, but I think this ark has completely changed my mind about him. First, there was that face he made talking about his mother being alive, and then him being forced to exorcise his own brother. Which must have been devastating to Teru, considering that his whole motive is to protect his family, the two he has left. I think this is some of the most emotional we’ve seen in Teru. And I’m crying again

I spent like 30 minutes at midnight typing this out because once again AidaIro has delivered a heartbreaking chapter, and I need to talk about it.

Oh my god, I was so busy crying yesterday I didn’t realize his and Mitsuba’s corpses were in the well.

[joonipertree]

idea for the Boxer!Katsuki and Artist!Reader AU! What if, ON TOP OF a rly bad day w college and being overwhelmed w work, we lost our paints :( n we luv our paints so we cry, but katsuki’s there to make us feel better and get us a new set :3

Thank you so fucking much for this. Idk if you knew but I'm actually making a portfolio for art school and Ive been crying every other night because of how stressed I am and how much I feel like I'm a bad artist. So writing this was cathartic

Part 1, Part 2

Tags: Dom/sub undertones, reader acting out and Bakugo being stern, a peak of what kind of shit I want with older men hsjsjsj, fluff, hurt/comfort, soft katsuki

Katsuki was one of the last people you wanted to see when you're in a bad mood. And that might sound terrible but it's because you never wanted to show such a harsh, negative side of yourself to someone you cared about. You were very much a 'feel and then reappear more regulated' type of person. But Katsuki never let you go home on your own anymore, picking you and dropping you off even on days where he had something to do.

So you trotted towards him with a scowl and no energy to fake anything and he noticed instantly, his own concerned scowl mirroring yours.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." You said and opened the door, closing it a bit too loudly. You cringed at the sound but buckled yourself in and turned away before the man got in the driver's seat.

"You're shit at lying."

"Fuck off."

Instant regret, a deep inhale from your part as you tensed.

Fuck.

His large hand came on your thigh and you stiffened, all he did was give it a warning squeeze before pulling away. The message was clear. 'Watch it'.

"I'm not willing to discipline you until I know nothing horrible happened but you do know I don't like that shit from you right?"

You said nothing.

"Give me an answer, doll."

"I'm an adult."

"Yeah, you are. And you're a smart one that knows that we have rules. That I'd be taking you over my lap if you talked like that."

Tears pricked your eyes but you blinked them away, not willing to turn your head to show him.

He knew anyways and he dropped the subject, starting the car and driving off.

Katsuki pulled to a stop at a place that wasn't anywhere near your apartment. You were confused as he got out of the car. Your eyes followed him just as he entered a boba shop.

Oh.

A couple minutes later, he came out with a drink for each of you. You remembered when he said that there just wasn't any point of it, that it seemed stupid and too sweet. But pretty soon, he had his own usual order, which was just Brown Sugar boba tea with the sweetness to a minimum.

Katsuki gave you the drink without even looking your way, sipping on his own. You stared at it for a total of ten seconds before timidly taking a sip. The sweetness broke you out of your sour mood, eyes blinking as you focused on the flavour of your favourite tea. The boba was chewy and soft and it grounded you a bit.

Only after you took a sip, did Katsuki start the car and drive.

When you reached home, the apartment the two of you had started sharing a month prior, Katsuki only gave you time to take off your shoes and put down your bag before he had you over his shoulder.

You struggled, hitting his back and asking him to let you go but he didn't listen...not even feeling it.

And when your ass plopped itself onto the couch, your attempt at running away failed when he easily manhandled you in place.

"I'm not patient enough to coax it out of you, so tell me why you're upset. I'll make it better."

You wanted to refuse but the tears were already dripping down your face.

"I'm so bad at art. I'm so f-fucking bad at it. I don't-" you sobbed and his arms were instantly around you, pulling you onto his lap as you cried into him.

"There's so many deadlines and so many things I have to do and nothing is working. And I don't even know if I'm cut out to be an artist. I'm not good enough, I was never good enough for it. I'm gonna fail-- Katsuki I'm so tired."

Your boyfriend rocked you back and forth, giving you kisses everywhere he could reach, on the side of your face and your head and your hair. And you let the tears fall, hiccuping violently and sobbing without restraint.

"I even lost my fucking paints and I can't live without them and I saved up for them and I'm just doing everything wrong."

You let Katsuki envelope you, squeeze you and warm your inside as you let it all out.

When your sobs died down, Katsuki didn't stop peppering kisses everywhere. It took him a second to speak.

"I didn't know shit about art. It all seemed like fancy, time consuming pictures to me. Hell, even now I don't know shit. But when I saw your art, I felt stuff I thought I didn't know how to feel. And that was the first time I realised that maybe life didn't have to be as shitty as it was. Maybe things didn't have to be ugly."

"When we went to those art galleries, yeah they were cool and pretty but not gonna lie, nothing ever left me speechless like your art did. And yeah...I'm biased as fuck, especially because I thought that the look in your eyes was the prettiest out of everything. That sounds cheesy as shit but you make me feel cheesy as shit."

You had stopped crying, left drained and nuzzled against Katsuki while you looked for an anchor to hold onto. And he held you.

"I like seeing you paint the most though, I like how you focus...I like how you curse under your breath, I like how you grin when something looks right, I like how you scan art supplies before you buy them. I like your paint stained hands and your paint water mugs even when I've accidently taken a sip from them. I like that how you laugh when I do that shit. I love that look of pride you have when you're done and staring at it.

It makes you happy so even if I don't understand the point of it, it means a lot to me because of that. So, whenever that thing stops being fun for you, and really stops being fun for you, I'll support you if you wanna stop. But I gotta keep seeing your work, baby, cuz it's like the inside of your head and it's really neat."

You let a few more tears drop, sniffling and looking into his eyes. There was no ingenuity, only pure emotion. And you let him kiss your tears away, you let him pat your head and you let him make you drink water and feed you.

Because it was never a burden for him to do those things, but a priveledge.

The very next day, the same set of paints were in your bag. Brand new and untouched. Along with three different watercolour paper books. 100% pure cotton, 350 gcm.

With a note that said 'you're still down for a spanking for that shitty mouth of yours. Don't make it a habit.'

[written-with-blue-ink]

Lost in the Rain

You and your lover, Chief Iudex Neuvillette, are on your way to dinner but, along the way, you find a lost child...

Neuvillette X Reader, Fluff (sorry ive been gone so long, school, work, life, etc. still haven't played 4.1 yet)

The day was going by like most others. Neuvillette was just finishing packing his paperwork as you sat on the couch by the window, sunshine shining on your face as faint fluffy clouds brew over your head. As he closes the latches of the suitcase, his eyes meet yours and melt at your gaze. “Are you ready to go, my love,” he softly inquired.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, taking his case in your left hand so you could hold his hand with your right. Giving him a peck on the lips, you two head out the door and down the hall. As the large doors open to the city of Fontaine, you say, “We’re still pretty early for our dinner reservations.”

“Well,” your lover said, his cane moving as he took a step, “being very early is better than being a little-” Your partner was cut off in both word and stride, hand pulling you back. Turning your eyes to look at the Chief Justice you see a small boy, probably no older than eight, hands clenched on Neuvillette’s pant leg as he sobs. 

The clouds in the sky slowly turned gray as he leaned down. Picking up the boy, he saw his hazel eyes between the tears. “What’s wrong, little one,” he asked, gesturing you to move towards a nearby bench as he tried walking while carrying the boy.

“I- I can’t find my maman,” he wailed, rubbing his eyes on his shirt sleeve and sniffling back tears. “She told me if I-I get lost I should t-try to find someone twustworthy. Can…can y-you help me, Mon-sear New-vile-ette?”

With every word coming out of the boy’s mouth, the sky turned darker and the smell of petrichor hit your nose until the boy finished between the tears when the droplets of water finally fell from the sky and hit the ground. The soft droplets of rain fell into your hair as you walked over.

Neuvillette placed the boy on his lap and rubbed circles into the child’s back, looking to you for guidance but you could only shrug, leaning on his shoulder as a reassurance as you two kept an eye out for a frantic mother. 

The boy’s tears slowly fell as his attention turned to the sky, quivering eyes staring at the clouds as he pondered, “Why is it raining?”

Neuvillette thought for a second, lips pursed as he chose his next words carefully. “I think the Hydro Dragon is worried for you.”

“Yeah,” you add, softly smiling as you wipe a tear off the boy's cheek, “the same way we are, he’s a sensitive soul in that way.”

Neuvillete’s eyes met yours, softening at your words and the grimace on his face melted into a smile.

The boy’s eyes furrowed, and he bit his lip as he held back a sob. “Are you sure?”

“Certainly,” Neuvillette assured, moving his hand from the boy’s back to the boy’s shoulder reassuringly. 

Shifting his gaze to the sky, drops of rain hit his face and his hair. “HYDRO DRAGON, HYDRO DRAGON, DON’T CRY,” he shouted at the clouds, “WE WILL BE OKAY, DON’T BE SCARED.”

A small smile grew on Neuvillette’s lips, eyes sparkling with emotion as the clouds seemed to let up, becoming a small sprinkle instead. The sunlight passed through the clouds in beams, hitting your skin and bringing warmth to the Fontainian air. 

It took another ten or so minutes before you saw a woman with a Melusime Officer walking alongside her. As soon as her eyes caught sight of the boy, her pace quickened, a smile on her face as she shouted, “Liam!”

“Maman,” he shouted back, ripping himself from Neuvillette’s arms and running towards the woman. The rain seemed to dissipate as the boy hopped in his mother’s arms, giggling as she peppered his face with kisses. “I did what you told me to, maman! I found someone twustworthy to help!”

Her eyes looked up from her son, full of tears as she held the boy close. “Thank you for keeping an eye on my Liam, Chief Iudex. Mx. (Y/N).”

“It’s no problem, mademoiselle,” the white haired man smiled, standing up causing you to follow suit. 

The woman nods as she walks away with the boy in her arms, a grin plastered on his face as he waved, “Thank you Mon-sear New-vile-ette and Mx. (Y/N)! Bye bye!”

Your partner’s eyes watched the two of them walk off but yours drifted to him, heart pounding in your chest as you bit your tongue. When his gaze shifted to you, his eyes widened as his hand moved to your cheek. “My dear... is something wrong,” he asks as he wipes away a tear you didn’t realize was there. 

“No, my love,” placing a hand over his. Leaning up, you peck his lips gently, “happy tears. I hope we can have a little one like that one day.”

His pale skin flushed pink at your words and actions. “I would love that as well,” he whispers so only you can hear. Shifting his hand so he can delicately take yours, he kisses your knuckles and a smile appears on his lips, “But now, let’s get to our dinner reservation...”

[sizequadrant]

not right - lando norris

pairing - lando norris x reader x mention of charles leclerc.

summary - an anniversary dinner goes wrong, or does it?

warnings - swearing, slight angst, sexual mentions, fluffy at the end.

a/n - ahh my first post, pls lmk any tips you have as this is my first ever fic ive ever written. i hope you love itttt!

You knew it was wrong, theres no way it wasn’t wrong. Turning up at your now ex’s bestfriends apartment at 11pm wasn’t on your to-do list for tonight.

It started when he came home late from work, you made an amazing dinner for your 1 year anniversary.

“ y/n i’m home.” his voice was gentle but filled with tiredness, as if he hadn’t caused you hours of stress and worry.

you don’t reply, you just stay wrapped up on the couch, still in your outfit but makeup noticeably smudged.

“y/n whats wrong mon amour? ” he says just above a whisper, smiling at you.

“ Don’t mon amour me, I’ve been sat here looking stupid for 2 hours Charles, two fucking hours! ” you shout, finally rising from the couch.

his brows furrow, charles slowly walks over to me and tries to grab your hand.

“ baby don’t be like this, i wasn’t gone long and we can eat now! ” he laughs as if nothing has happened, making you even more furious.

“ eat? eat what, the cold pasta or the stale bread? i’ve been waiting forever, worrying about where you are. Not even a phone call, why do you keep doing this to me every night? ” you run my hands through your hair and walk towards the shoe rack, grabbing your heels and throwing them on.

“i cant deal with your shit anymore y/n, i have a life you know, and it doesn’t revolve around you! ” he points in your face, eyes darker than ever and teeth gritted.

your breathe hitches and you feel tears welling in your eyes. you walk out your apartment door and slam it.

And thats how you got to where you are now, stood outside of his bestfriends apartment, debating whether to ring the bell or not. After ten minutes of anticipation you finally ring the bell.

“ y/n? ” lando’s eyes widen and he puts a hand through his wet hair.

you just look at him in delusion, as if nothing was real, were you actually stood in front of him or was it in your imagination, had you really left your boyfriends apartment and come straight to his friend for comfort. Nothing felt real to you.

“ y/n look at me ” lando grabs your face and makes you look at him, wiping the smudged mascara from under your eyes.

his voice is filled with so much concern and seeing his face looking down at you with so much worry is exactly what it takes for you to finally break.

“ it went so wrong, the whole night went so wrong” you fall into his arms sobbing, clutching onto his shirt like you were begging him not to let go.

lando puts an arm on the small of your back and walks you into his apartment, slowly sitting you down on the couch next to him.

After telling him what happened, and eventually calming down, your actions become a reality and you finally realise where you are.

you stand up of landos couch and straighten out my dress, looking round the room.

“ i’m sorry i shouldn’t have come here, charles is probably waiting. ” you smile and walk towards the door and grab my jacket.

“ y/n, do you not remember why you came here? ” he walks closer to me and places a hand on your cheek, sending butterflies through your stomach.

you just look at him in awe, something inside you takes over, you grab the back of his neck and put your lips on his, His kiss was too addicting.

it was almost everything you craved for. The way his lips moved on yours, the soft moan that slipped from his lips, and how his gaze had settled on you. His hand roamed around your body freely as if he knew it like the back of his hand.

you snap out of the trance he had you in, finally thinking about the actions you were doing.

you pull away and throw your hand over your mouth, putting your other on your stomach, feeling violently sick that you had just cheated on your boyfriend with one of his bestfriends.

“ i cant do this lando, i have a boyfriend ” you bite my bottom lip anxiously and turn quickly on my heel.

“ do whatever you thinks right y/n ” he smiles at you softly, making you nearly drop to my knees.

you smile back and walk out of his apartment door, walking through the streets of Monaco full of guilt, but also full of wonder.

what were you going to do?

[chrisweetheart]

open arms

“mom i’ve had no time! ive literally been working all fucking day i’ve had no time to relax, you think i’ve had the time to tidy my room?” i yelled, emotion surged within me as tears filled my eyes, me and my mom never argued, since the beginning me and my mom have been inseparable, i’ve always told her absolutely everything about my life, my struggles, my relationships and she did the same.

today it seemed we were both having a bad day, i had spent the entire day at my local cafe, working my ass off as a waitress to save up for my dream concert tickets at then end of the month. i only just got home and she was already nagging me about the mess in my room, so i just snapped.

i didn’t mean to, i never would ever disrespect my mom on purpose, i’ve never sworn at her or even shouted at her. she’s done everything for me my whole life and i had no reason to make her feel down. it’s her first time living too.

i stormed out of the kitchen, snatching my car keys from the side table and slipping on my uggs. ignoring the pouring rain, i dashed outside and climbed into my car, driving to the one place that felt like a second home.

the car ride felt endless, though it was only ten minutes. i pulled into the familiar driveway, unlocked the car door, and stepped carefully onto the wet ground. after a soft knock on the oak front door, a friendly face appeared moments later.

“hey, hey, hey, have you been crying sweet girl?’ matt's face fell as he took in my expression and the tear stains on my cheeks.

i couldn't find the words to respond to his simple question; instead, i broke down in tears and clung to matts welcoming figure, burying my face in his chest as he led me inside, closely the door softly behind me. he gently stroked my hair while i sniffled against him. he allowed me the time to gather myself before calmly asking what was wrong.

"i don’t even know what happened. one minute, i was sitting on the couch reading, and the next, i was screaming at my own mother! i feel awful, and i don't know what to do, matt," i said between choked sobs.

“shh, angel, it’s okay. everything’s going to be alright. i’m here. your mom is probably feeling just as you do right now, so don’t beat yourself up about it. neither of you meant what was said, and you’ll both forgive and forget by tomorrow. do you want to sleep here tonight, baby?” matt reassured me gently. i nodded into his chest and smiled up at him, my eyes bloodshot and my face flushed.

"i love you so much, never forget that. you can always come to me whenever something goes wrong, and i’ll be waiting with open arms, okay, pretty girl?" he tucked my hair behind my ears and pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

@ CHRISWEETHEART

based off this request

[juneberrie]

CON FLORES (TE LLEVASTE MI TRISTEZA) .𖥔 ݁ ˖ pavitr prabhakar

fem ! hispanic ! reader angst -> fluff 0.8k words — a/n: pav is so cute i love him<3 also shout out to ivy for helping with the one (1) line of hindi !!! love u ives

you had been having a shitty day, to say the least.

first, your alarm hadn't gone off, causing you to only have 15 minutes to get ready. buttoning your shirt up, you searched the room looking for your bag, seeing it unpacked in the corner. just great. after shoving your notebooks into the bag and zipping it up halfway, you slipped on your uniform skirt and hastily laced your shoes before taking a final cursory glance at the mirror.

there was a tear in the blue fabric of your skirt. small enough that it wasn't really an issue, but big enough that it was noticeable. deciding to fix it when you got home, you rushed down the stairs and passed by the kitchen, grabbing your lunch bag as you hustled through your house.

"chao, mami! te veo mas tarde!" (bye, mom! i'll see you later) you called over your shoulder. your mother rolled her eyes at your hurriedness and waved you off with a smile.

then, as you made your way to the bus stop, some idiot bumped into you, causing you to nearly topple over.

"watch where you're going, cabron!" (bastard) you shouted.

you sighed and got on the crowded bus. you spotted your friend sitting way in the back, but the only empty seat was right in the front, behind the driver. frowning, you shrugged at her and slid into the seat. pulling your headphones on, you scrolled through your playlist till you found a song you liked, and rested your forehead on the window, watching the city go by.

the bus all of a sudden stopped, lurching forward. the doors hissed open and the driver called out the school stop. you and about ten other people got up and started pushing towards the door. finally getting out of the stifling bus, you shoved your way through the crowd and entered the school.

a few hours later, at lunch, you spotted your friends all sitting at a table together. there weren't any free seats. your heart felt heavy as you sat down at an empty table across the lunch room. unfortunately, your friends were directly in your line of sight. even over the loud din of the lunchroom, you could hear them laughing and gossiping as they ate their lunches. sighing, you opened your lunch bag to see . . . nothing. there was absolutely nothing in your lunch. at first, you thought your mom had just forgotten to pack you something, but you distinctly remembered the bag being heavy with food when you left the house. then, you remembered the person that bumping into you on your way to the bus.

you dropped your head into your hands and squeezed your eyes shut. que dia tan mal, (what a bad day) you thought. your stomach grumbled, complaining about the lack of delicious food it was promised.

the rest of the day passed in a blur. a horrible, messed up blur. you had failed a your algebra test, you had nearly failed your science project, you had sat alone at lunch, and you had gone basically the whole day being ignored by everyone. it was like you were invisible.

once you get home, your mom asks, "que tal tu dia?" (how was your day?) you just shrug in response and stomp up the stairs to your room. shutting the door, you slid down till you hit the floor and you bring your knees into your chest. resting your head between them, you felt hot tears pricking at your eyes. squeezing your eyes, you feel a few of them escape and drop down onto the floor.

all of a sudden, a knock interrupts the sobs racking through your body. you raise your head and turn it towards the door, but the knock comes again, from the window.

wiping your tears away, you go and open the blinds, seeing pavitr standing on the tiny ledge outside. he was holding a colorful bouquet of flowers in his hand and was gripping onto the window sill with the other. he smiles, but then seeing your tearstained face, it turns into a pout.

you unlatch the window and raise it up, watching him climb into your room. he gently places the flowers on your desk and immediately envelopes you in his arms. the tears come back, flowing freely now.

"oh, my angel," he whispers. he presses a kiss to your head and holds you tighter. "what's wrong?"

through sobs, you explain the horrid day you'd had. pav nods and frowns. leading you over to your bed, he wraps his arms around you again. "i'm sorry, my love."

shrugging, you pull away for a moment to wipe a few tears off your face. pav lowers your hands and then places his own on your face, wiping under your eyes. his own eyes are looking in yours, filled with love and concern.

"i brought flowers," he whispers. with a small, teary laugh, you smile at your boyfriend.

"i saw. thank you, mi amor." he freezes, as he usually does when you call him anything in spanish.

"of— of course," he stammers. sighing, he pulls you into a kiss. with that kiss, he makes you forget all the shitty things that had happened to you today. he's wrapping you up in love and reminding you that he's there, he cares.

"te amo."

"mein tumse pyar kartha hu." (i love you)

[wayfayrr]

Hello!

Its about self aware au link i want to ask,,

What do you think about how link reacts when i play two games at the same time?

Like for example, recently ive been re playing totk and try to do all the side quests and grinding like dragon farming(waiting time so long) and to distract myself while im waiting for it to recharge, im playing OoT in my 3DS(and maybe even saying to the tv "look linkyyyy its yours distant grandpa") 😭

How will the two links react to it? Will they be upset? Confused? Making some weird plot? I do wonder😭😭😭

I need two games at the time to maximize busyness

I hope the ask wasnt too long! I hope you have a good day!💕

Me when I pause anything to play colourful stage on my phone 💀 Zelda is good but nothing can break the hold Miku has on me, and you gotta do those daily challenge missions right? I did one while answering this and was ONE note off of a full combo I almost cried

I think he'd be less bothered by the fact that you didn't completely turn off his game to play another yk? it'd be one thing if you were going between totk and a Mario game - or god forbid totk to sksw or botw

you're still somewhat focused on the link who's on the main screen, he's just taking a backseat as you wait for the dragons to recover. It's fine, he's fine, not jealous one little bit. Not even as you pull out your ds and... You're playing with another link? Sure he's still there, standing around, waiting, with his strings cut. Standing still, maybe facing the screen if he was lucky with how you left him - could he dare move himself to face you if he wasn't already. No he couldn't you'd notice something was off with him wouldn't you? Yeah you're still focused enough that that could cause issues. Until the dragon starts glowing again. And you're still focused on that other guy.

Meanwhile little time (that's something intresting too, should it be proper lu time back in a child's body or would he be someone different again. Maybe for different playthroughs... also the angst of baby time getting out and seeing what should have been his fate with the hero's shade??? sobbing) is relishing that you see him as being worthy of more attention. Well until it hits him that he's only a placeholder for you to wait out a ten minute timer (yeah I've done the dragon wait a bunch - my go too was writing or revising during it sdgsfdgvs)

in other words I think they could both be bitter at each other and if it wasn't for the fact that they're older and (possibly) more mature, I think it would be a very very similar situation to what menace wrote out here Heck if we're going with a younger time I could see him getting into trouble to draw your attention back onto him with tears maybe even retaliating if it carries on long enough. But the only reason there's an issue is because it's explicitly another zelda game. if it was a different one or another genre entirely then it wouldn't be any issue whatsoever <3

anyone who thought to check this out gets to know that toya aoyagi is my voice claim for tears :) I love him and his voice is just *chef's kiss* I also got his birthday card in 30 pulls :3

[six-white-venus]

i.

i meet death for the first time when i’m ten and understand nothing about her except a few things-

she’s taking away grandpa

she made dad cry

and i didn’t care for either of that.

what is death for a child, anyway? what is loss for someone who never knew of it? a beginning of something from the end of everything.

ii.

the next time i see her, i’m thirteen.

i think there’s something that ties me and death together so tightly. i am not the same kid i was in ten; thirteen year old me wants to see death, wants her to take me home in her gangly arms. and i do see her, but she’s not here for me. she never is.

she wears a white saree this time and her skin is embroidered with flowers from my grandpa’s garden. i scream at her to leave, just this once. but death has always been cruel, ruthless. she rips him away from my fingers and tears away a good part of my grandma’s soul, too. cruel, ruthless.

but her head hangs low as she leaves the house without meeting my eyes. the sky is blue and filled with the sound of agony when i realize: death is a coward.

after that, she never leaves me, i think. i can never see her (refer: blue skies and cowards), but she presses her icy hands against my head every night when i’m asleep. i’d wake up sobbing, breathless, screaming, screaming for what i lost. i reach my hand out to the sky and try to grab hold of him. and distantly, i wonder if she was hanging her head to hide her smile all along.

iii.

i see him again sooner than i would have liked.

i am fifteen and sadder than i’ve ever been when another beloved of mine is stolen from my arms.

i’m screaming.

this time, he wears a cloak of billowing black and hides his face with a hood. he’s the hands that hold me back as i reach out to what was once mine, alive and breathing. he’s the black i wear throughout the funeral. his eyes (critical, empty, grey) meets mine (salt-filled, miserable, brown). i think i say something to him that day- a singular word collapsing into itself.

the sound of my screams and my lucky charm shattering follows him as he walks away.

iv.

the imprints of his hands remain on my skin. the grime of his fingers colours my arms and the ice of his touch still makes me shiver.

maybe, a mortal was never meant to know the touch of death and go on living. a mortal wasn’t suppoised to bleed at their own accord and wake up smiling with no rememberance of meeting him. i have been tainted by death and it has driven me insane, mother. will you sing me a lullaby and put me to sleep (forever)? would you shut out my smile with your tears every morning and wipe away all my sweet dreams from my eyelids and show me the nightmare that is my reality?

the next time i see death, i am getting ready for school. my eyes are swollen and lifeless and circled with darkness. my movements are controlled by a puppeteer inside my head and i look in the mirror and oh, i see death. i am death.

v.

on my sixteenth birthday, death announces his presence with the sound of seashells and the smell of sanitizer filling the air.

death is a little boy standing at our door and our eyes meet (his- painted black; mine- smeared blue) and i remember what i asked him that day.

why?

and death, he cries. his ink black tears stain our floor. death and i, we are both so tired.

i’m sorry, he says but both of us know he’s not, not really. he’ll be back the next day, the next hour and every minute that follows to devour something of mine.

we’re both tired of this game of tigers and goats, death and i. but he can’t hunting and i can’t stop bleeding and please, i am so tired. can’t you find someone else to feast upon?

i wish i didn’t know the answer to that question.

[journey-to-the-attic]

HELLOOO i haveng shown up in a while omg… sob… got caught up with other fixations (mainly dc and hsr-) so jtta hasnt really been on my mind but now im BACKKK!!! i started missing it so bad and to this day it’s my favorite fic ive ever read!! soooo ive started rereading it again and i like seeing the little changes hehe, i still remember some of the pre edited chapters !! also the stickers being actual stickers is so cool???? i absolutely love that!!! ^_^ (also i have to admit ive been thinking of trying to adapt the first chapter of jtta into some comic pages as a little personal art project i dunno.. 👀 although i wouldnt be starting it anytime soon since i dont really have the time sobs;;; only if this idea is okay with you btw!!) thats all i wanted to say thanks for listening!!! ^_^

wow hello again!! i've been contemplating how much i want to let myself change things in editing... i think i went a little too hard on the task chapter, but i've got a handle on it now i reckon. also the fact that you can spot edits is crazy to me..... whoa..

...okay i just spent like ten minutes trying to find that toby fox tweet that reads like "someone drew my characters..... *turns into basketball, swishes through hoop" but MY POINT BEING that i will always be super happy at the prospect of anyone making any kind of art for my stuff!! please feel free to create as you like!!! i'm always 100000% down for someone to have fun making stuff in any case

<3!!

[hueningsloverr]

౨ৎ making the bed !

pairing: hueningkai x slightly toxic!reader summary: life was miserable for you. it wasn't for kai. and while he could never change your circumstances, he was there for you. word count: 0.6k extra: inspired by olivia rodrigos making the bed ! and it's not happy. y/n has mental health issues !! implied death of a loved one . lots of mentions of being drunk .

you were notoriously aggressive. not in a negative way, just well... set in your ways. you always got what you wanted in the end, even if you didn't always go about it in the best ways. which is why it was shocking huening kai was so drawn to you.

kai was thoughtful, where you were thoughtless. not much happened in your brain before you made a decision (not that you were dumb anything, you just were brash!!!) yet kai was meticulous, calculating.

to you, everything was a sign for something else. you played pretend, dressing up behind fake smiles and forced laughter. there was such little joy left in your life. anything fun you somehow managed to ruin.

and kai was all too familiar with your behaviour. it worried him.

some nights, you would disappear, only to show up at his door at an ungodly hour. drunk. only propped up by two slightly-sober friends. he'd let you stay with him. he knew you couldn't go home. not like that.

yet come morning, you'd be gone. you'd push and push him away for around a week, then show up drunk once again. your drunken confessions usually lasted under ten minutes, yet they made everything make sense.

you were miserable with your life.

you were more miserable when you would startle awake in the middle of the night, kai instantly rushing to your side.

he was always there.

he had to be.

the one night he wasn't, everything changed.

"i’m sorry, i heard about-" kai began, already fumbling for words. what do you say to someone who may lose the person they hold closest to their heart? there is nothing to say. nothing to fix the wrongs.

"don't. she is not your sister lying on that hospital room." you snapped, yet there was no visible anger in your eyes. not towards kai at least. towards the world, maybe. but not towards him. you were hurting.

"i know what it feels like to have someone you care about in danger. when there's nothing you can do for the one you love. all there's left to do is sit through the storm, and pray it doesn’t sweep them away."

two years.

every night whilst you slept terribly, battling the nightmares, he sat awake in bed, wondering what could have been different had he been there.

he brought it up once to a friend, who simply laughed in his face. they told him you had a 'victim complex'.

you were fucked in the head, basically.

and kai knew that if there was even any truth to that statement, you were already trying to fix that. you were seeing someone, getting help. your life was out of your control, and you were working to get it back.

some days were simply worse than others, for both you and kai. you teetered on the edge of love. drunkenly, you would tell him you loved him. and stupidly, he would believe it.

a chemical imbalance in your brain. or so kai tried so hard to believe. anything besides the choice that sometimes, you were just cruel.

it was hard to believe that, though. because when you were good, god you were amazing. you could be so sweet, so apologetic. you regretted being who you were. and it was obvious to kai when you would cry into his sweater, a sobbing mess.

you, at the end of the day, were the one who made all those bad decisions. you were suffering the consequences. you were the one to blame. there was nowhere to hide. accountability was knocking on your door. and while you refused to answer it for the time being, kai would be there when you were ready.

he always would. you're the one making the bed, but kai would always be by your side.

authors note : this is the one based off of making the bed! i am a terrible person. i don't know why i chose to injure a sibling. maybe cuz i feel like ive lost mine idk. lol. idk i might go on hiatus im not doing the best rn and i think how terrible this is reflects that like this was just projection.

©2024 — all rights reserved to hueningsloverr , please do not plagiarise or translate any of my work

[ultra-raging-ghost]

watching yesterdays vod and bro just. straight up started SOBBING and crying cucuruchos name because his stasis chamber was covered up like i didnt believe the extent but goddamn bro just started sobbing and crying and wailing and crawling around spawn crying "cucurucho come back to me!!" i dont think ive ever heard him do this cry in particular thats so. 🏳‍🌈

bros been straight up crying for ten minutes, ten minutes straight of crying over cucurucho moving out

[apoemadaykeepsthehoesaway]

Wild With All Regret

-Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

(To S.S.) //Siegfried Sassoon

*

My arms have mutinied against me, - brutes!

My fingers fidget like ten idle brats,

My back’s been stiff for hours, damned hours.

Death never gives his squad a Stand-at-ease.

I can’t read. There: it’s no use. Take your book.

A short life and a merry one, my buck!

We said we’d hate to grow dead old. But now,

Not to live old seems awful: not to renew

My boyhood with my boys, teach ‘em hitting,

Shooting and hunting, - and all the arts of hurting!

- Well, that’s what I learnt. That, and making money.

Your fifty years in store seems none too many,

But I’ve five minutes. God! For just two years

To help myself to this good air of yours!

One spring! Is one too hard to spare? Too long?

Spring air would find its own way to my lung,

And grow me legs as quick as lilac-shoots.

*

Yes, there’s the orderly. He’ll change the sheets

When I’m lugged out. Oh, couldn’t I do that?

Here in this coffin of a bed, I’ve thought

I’d like to kneel and sweep his floors for ever, -

And ask no nights off when the bustle’s over,

For I’d enjoy the dirt. Who’s prejudiced

Against a grimed hand when his one’s quite dust, -

Less live than specks that in the sun-shafts turn?

Dear dust - in rooms, on roads, on faces’ tan!

I’d love to be a sweep’s boy, black as Town;

Yes, or a muck-man. Must I be his load?

A flea would do. If one chap wasn’t bloody,

Or went stone-cold, I’d find another body.

*

Which I shan’t manage now. Unless it’s yours.

I shall stay in you, friend, for some few hours.

You’ll feel my heavy spirit chill your chest,

And climb your throat, on sobs, until it’s chased

On sighs, and wiped from off your lips by wind.

I think on your rich breathing, brother, I’ll be weaned

To do without what blood remained me from my wound.

*

Some Context & Quotes:

•This was later expanded into Owens poem ‘A Terre’

• “W’s death was an unhealed wound and the ache of it has been with me ever since. I wanted him back - not his poetry” - Sassoon on Owen’s death

• “I held you as Keats + Christ + Elijah + my Colonel + my father confessor + Amenophis IV in profile. What’s that mathematically?

In effect, it is this: that I love you, dispassionately, so much, so very much, dear fellow, that the blasting little smile you wear on reading this can’t hurt me in the least.

If you consider what the above Names have severally done for me, you will know what you are doing. And you have fixed my Life - however short. You did not light me: I was always a mad comet; but you have fixed me. I spun round you a satellite for a month, but I shall swing out soon, a dark star in the orbit where you will blaze.” - Wilfred Owen to Siegfried Sassoon

[star-ocean-peahen]

*grumble grumble*

i just—grrrrr

mom's mad. mom's snippy because she's been looking after a small human with the attitude of a wasp all day. mom may be being slightly unfair to the medium human.

but DAD. really???? really. do you really need to stand there making gestures like "mom's mad right now listen to her" but not in a "mom's feeling upset right now" kind of way but a "your mom's being crazy again" kind of way?? you've definitely never taken any of your kids aside and tried to help them UNDERSTAND why people behave a certain way when theyre upset or EXPLAIN how to react to someone being mad and taking it out on you!! nah you're just going with a "your mom's fucking up and acting crazy again" kind of reaction. the medium human would not have such a problem with her if you didnt encourage them!!! you imply the kids are depressed and emotionally disregulated because she shut them out but you never modeled proper conflict resolution or emotional regulation!! why would you act like its HER fault when its BOTH of your faults?????

but NOOOOOO......................................*sigh* because you were never given these tools yourself and it's not fair to expect you to know how to do things you've never done. because its not actually possible for you to do better yet without significant work and support. because i love you and im doing a shitty job of showing it when i blame you for things out of your control. i just. i keep sorting all the things he does around me into "problematic" and "being a great dad" and it trips me up so much when he does something that makes me feel loved and makes me laugh and makes me feel like i have my dad but then a few minutes later he does something that i identify as a source of confusion and hurt.........................ugh. i hate this.

it's hard to reconcile how he's made me feel safer than anyone else ever could and how he's scared me + made me worry. Like, i have a very sweet and secure memory of him singing me to sleep but also i have the memory where he told me another country could hit us with a WMD at any time and because of where we live we'd be the first to die. that wasn't a necessary thing i needed to know at ten, if it was even true. but he's come through for me when i needed him so so so so so many times. but he did something that traumatized me. but we can banter and talk for hours and laugh and laugh and laugh. but he's the best teacher ive ever had. but i can count the times he's praised me for my work on two hands. but he understands how im feeling in really important moments. but he'll observe me get so upset im uncontrollably sobbing and do nothing. but he accepts the weirdest and most bizarre parts of me. but i have to walk on eggshells around him. but i know he's incredibly proud of me. but im terrified of disappointing him. but i know without a doubt that he loves me so, so much. but he's hurt me.

its. hard to know what to do with that.