#I’m always one mean comment from deleting every post I’ve ever made and vanishing into the shadow realm

[grimalkinscribbles]

DO NT COMMENT ON ANATOMICAL ERRORS ABSOLUTELY NO ONE IS MORE PAINFULLY AWARE OF IT THAN THE ARTIST

[tartglias]

General relationship headcanons with genshin boys

“Since it's open, what about general headcanons for the boys? ;0 like what's it like to be with them for a headstart :D”

i was originally going to make six characters, then five, but then i accidentally deleted th draft and had to start all over again. i already feel bad for posting late so i’m sorry it’s just four and not five :( i’ll probably make a part 2 of these soon!!

characters: diluc, kaeya, scaramouche and xiao

Diluc

The beginning of the relationship was slow, painfully slow. So slow that a certain bard and the one and only Cavalry Captain had to step up, since neither of you would make the first step. Both of you were too scared of rejection, so you decided to swallow your feelings and “face” reality.

A few pick up lines over here, a jealousy scene over there, and the result was a very angry and flustered Diluc taking your hand and leading you upstairs for some privacy. It was then and there when he confessed his feelings for you, a sigh of relief leaving him when you reciprocated.

Both of you are private people, so you decided that keeping the relationship away from the public eye would be the best option. Sure, affection was reduced to an extent but that doesn’t mean that the relationship lacks love!

Affection in public meant exchanging soft glances and shy smiles from across the room, interlocking of pinkies and stealing kisses when nobody was looking. Very rarely, when he was feeling wild and desperate, he would drag you to somewhere secluded and push you (gently) to the nearest wall, caging you in between his arms as you wrapped your hands around his waist. Then, he kissed you slow and passionately.

Behind closed doors, the story was different. There wasn’t a single moment in which his hands weren’t touching your skin, or your hands weren’t playing with his hair as you kissed him passionately to compensate for the lost time. A kiss here, a kiss there. Again and again. A kiss for every hour you couldn’t spend together.

You found out about Diluc’s nightly activities rather quickly. It happened on a night in which he came back home slightly injured and breathless. When you questioned him, he simply said that some treasure hoarders ambushed him, but you knew he was lying. You could tell. Diluc soon realized there was no point in lying to you, so he told you his identity as the Darknight Hero.

Overall, your relationship may have started in a messy way, Diluc sometimes wishes he could have confessed in a different and more appropiate way. Your relationship may also be quiet, but quiet doesn’t mean that it lacks love. You both spend late nights and mornings in each others arms whispering sweet nothings. And your relationship may be scary at times, you often feared that he wont come back home one day. But you also know he always does, and you trust him every moment of the day. And he feels the same way. He doesn’t trust people easily, he rarely lets people in. But you are different, you make him feel different. He trusts you more than anything in the world.

Kaeya

It was no secret that Kaeya was a flirt. A few compliments over here, a charming smile over there and that was basically the formula to have most people in Mondstadt wrapped around his finger. Most people... except you. With a shy smile and an evident blush on your cheeks you were always fast to dismiss it and laugh it off. “You shouldn’t go saying those things” you used to say.

It started with a desire to make you swoon, it was like a goal for him. But eventually, he caught feelings and you were the one who made him swoon. So one day, he had enough. He wanted to confess and tell you how he actually feels.

And so he did, yet somehow you still thought it was a joke. “Kaeya you can’t say those things as a joke... someone will actually fall for it” you said, looking down at your feet as your heart started beating faster and faster by second. “I’m not joking, y/n. That’s how I truly and deeply feel about you” he said, taking your hand and placing it on his chest so you could feel how fast his heart was beating as well.

The closest word to describe your relationship with Kaeya would be that it was like an adventure, interesting and fun. You’re bored? He would take you to explore interesting (and safe) places he encountered while on his commissions. You’re sad? Nothing like him dragging you to the very top of the Cathedral and hugging you close to him as you both watch the sunset wouldn’t solve.

Kaeya’s kisses can be either quick or desperate and hungry, yet passionate. The first case usually happened whenever you two were in public, though he doesn’t have a problem with PDA. If it were up to him, he would spend every second of the day kissing you. But you’re both busy people so most times one of you is in a hurry. The second case happens when either one of you come home after a long day. It starts slow, maybe a few pecks here and there, but soon enough he picks up the pace. One hand around your waist, keeping you close to his body, and his other hand on your face, deepening the kiss. It always leaves you breathless, and he takes those few seconds you take to catch air to kiss your jaw and neck. He loves you and your body, he could spend a lifetime worshipping it.

Insecurity was somewhat a problem in the relationship, from both sides. On his side, he sometimes worried that you would get tired of him and slip away, just like most people in his life. And on your side, you feared that he would find someone who was braver, prettier and more skilled than you. But at the end of the day, even if there were times in which you argued over this problem, you both would always come home to each other. Nights would be spent in each other’s arms, constantly reassuring each other that you’re both here to stay.

Overall, dating Kaeya isn’t easy. You knew this the moment you both confessed. But it is worth it, no one makes you feel like he does, no one makes you swoon and laugh like him. And no one, and I mean, not a single person in Teyvat, could make Kaeya happier.

Scaramouche

Scaramouche was angry, to say the least. How dare you, a fellow Fatui Harbinger who he had to see almost daily, make his heart beat fast and legs shake? Why was he feeling like this? So stupid?

He thought your confession was part of a game, a dare. He saw you laughing with Childe a few moments before, and not that he would ever admit it, in fact he would rather lose his Vision and die than admit it, but he was a little bit jealous of the scene. He wanted to make you laugh like that, he wanted to make you blush and he wanted to have your heart. The moment you confessed, he was angry. He was sure it was a dare and Childe’s plan to make fun of him, but he quickly regretted it once he saw your sad face. “No, leave” he had said. Your shy smile dropped instantly and you slowly nodded, turning around and starting to walk away. His mouth opened before he could actually stop and think of what to do. “Do you mean it?” he asked. “Do you actually like me? It’s not a dare?” “Why would it be a dare? Scaramouche, I’ve liked you for a while now, everyone knows but you” you said, facing him once again only to find him trying to hide away the strong blush on his face. “Then... I think I like you too” he said, not daring to look at you.

Scaramouche was a harsh and jealous lover, he wanted you for himself. Fights were normal in your relationship, words without real meaning would be thrown at each other all the time. Yet, neither of you walked away. Neither of you verbally apologized for the harsh words either, but instead, you would let your actions apologize for you. Normal fights would be due to his jealousy, you spending a little too much time with Childe or other Harbingers for his liking. Yes, he knows you love him and yes, he knows that he is better than everyone else there. But he also knows he’s not the most liked person among the Fatui, and often worried that you would soon agree with people who said that. After taking a deep breath of air, you would drag him to bed and hold him close to you. His arms around your waist as he snuggled closer to you and buried his face on your neck. You hold him for a few hours while whispering soft promises of love and endless praise, reassuring him that you are not going anywhere anytime soon. “Don’t worry, you’ll have to put up with me for a long, long while” you whispered as you kissed his forehead. “I wouldn’t have it any other way” he whispered back.

Contrary to popular belief and also to his personality, his kisses are soft and unsure. He doesn’t have a lot of experience in this area, so his kisses tend to be short yet soft. Mostly in private as well, since he would rather die than let his underlings see this side of him. He would wrap his arms around your waist, probably as he makes a teasing comment about how desperate you are or how much you probably missed him, and then kissed your lips. He is fascinated by the way your lips feel against his, he gets drunk by the feeling.

Overall, your relationship with Scaramouche is wild, to say the least. One moment you’re yelling at each other, ready to fight and the next one you’re holding him close as he whispered protection promises and kissed your neck. But despite all the problems you both encountered, you’re always there for each other. You rely on him and he relies on you, and that’s enough.

Xiao

“What’s this?” He asked you as you slowly pulled away from him. “A kiss” “Disgusting. Do it again” He said, pulling you back to him with one hand as the other rested on your waist. You smiled through the kiss, and he felt like all his pain and karma vanished. After a while, you pulled away. “Again” he said, chasing your lips before crashing them with his in another soft yet desperate kiss. You giggled and pulled away. “I need to breathe” you said, chuckling at sight of his lips pouting. “Why”

The first time you met, he saved you from treasure hoarders. But before you could thank him, he disappeared. You didn’t know who your savior was, so you tried your best to remember the mask that was on his face. You didn’t see him again, until you found yourself in Wantshu Inn after a long day of commissions far away from your home in Liyue Harbor. You needed rest, but the clear night and stars were calling for you, and before you noticed you were at the top floor of the inn. That’s where you saw him, and for reasons he doesn’t understand, he didn’t leave. He remained sat on the floor, looking at the sky as his legs were hanging from the edge. “Isn’t it pretty? I barely see stars as clear as these back home” you said to the stranger from a close yet appropriate distance. He didn’t reply, he didn’t look at you, but he knew who you were. He remembered you from the time he saved you. Next thing you noticed was the mask that was on the floor next to him. Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped. “You’re... the one who saved me” you said, shock flooding your face. He rolled his eyes in response, can’t he be left alone? “I never got to thank you so... thank you” you simply said, a soft expression replacing your shocked one.

You started dropping by Wangshu Inn a bit more often, whenever your time and commissions allowed you too. And every time you brought different kinds of foods to offer to Xiao, no one ever telling you that his favorite was Almond Tofu. He found it annoying at first, but soon enough got used to it. The day you brought Almond Tofu though, he almost smiled. Almost. His expressions as he ate the offering didn’t go unnoticed by you, and quickly learnt that it was his favorite.

After a while he started looking forward to your visits, but if someone ever asked him about it, he would just say it wasn’t because of you, it was for the almond tofu offering. You started spending more time with him, even though he barely opened his mouth and you did all the talking. He found you amusing, truly. Something about you, made him feel funny inside. And that scared him.

Your relationship started with a kiss. “Again” he would say. “Again” he would repeat whenever you broke away to breathe. This was new to him, and he knew it was wrong since he is who he is and could harm you at any second, but he was addicted. He was addicted to your kisses, to your touches. He got drunk by the feeling you gave him, not wanting to ever let go. “Let go, let go of them. You’ll only harm them” he kept repeating to himself in his mind, but his body moved by itself, pulling you closer to him. He was addicted, and he knew it was bad.

There weren’t many arguments in your relationship, maybe a few over you taking dangerous commissions, but other than that it was full of affection. Affection used to be a strange concept for Xiao, who once was determined that it’s better for everyone if he stayed away. But then you appeared, and no one ever made him feel the way you did. He started yearning for your touches and he looked forward to you coming back to him so he could kiss you. You were better than any medicine Zonghli could ever give him, you made his pain ease. And as you were wrapped in his arms watching the stars at the top floor of the Inn, he made a promise. A promise of protection and love, he would never let anyone or anything harm you, and even if you die of old age he would still love you for centuries to come, and he will find you again in your next life.

Overall, your relationship with Xiao started slowly, but soon grew more and more with each passing day. He trusts you almost as much as he trusts Rex Lapis, and he would always watch you closely whenever you go out on a commissions. How did you get so lucky?

[omg-imagine]

Forget Me Not (Part 12/15)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Angst, language

A/N: Kinda nervous posting again since it’s been a while, but we’re winding down to the end of this story with only three more parts to go (2 chapters + an epilogue). As always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks for sticking around, and I hope you enjoy!

Part 11

Home.

You are home. It’s supposed to be home.

But it wasn’t. To you, it couldn’t be. 

This place feels too far from home, too foreign. You had no memories of it, no recollection of the safety and security it offers. Not even the faintest remembrance of the laughter, smiles, and tears; the fondness and the sadness these four walls have witnessed over the years. 

You can’t call it home. You don’t know where home is, and you’re not sure you have one anymore. 

Not after leaving him behind.

It’s cold and dark when you first wake, sleep weighing heavily in your eyes. A pair of curtains block out the sun from filtering into the room, leaving you to wonder if you had slept through half the day. With a yawn, you stretch, the bed underneath creaking as your body fully rouses from yet another night of fitful slumber. Almost a month back in New York, and it doesn’t make sense to keep blaming your lack of energy on the time difference.

The ache is still ever-present. The pain caused by the void in your heart remains, sharply throbbing in your chest with its refusal to go away. Two heartbreaks, two betrayals, occurring five years apart, but it feels as though not much time has passed in-between. 

It hurts to ponder about it, that evening when your seemingly perfect little world came crashing down. Hiding behind rose-tinted glasses, you were unknowingly tricked, fully caught up in a well-crafted illusion. His illusion. Love has blinded you to the sad reality, and in the end, it left you a shattered mess, a hollow shell of your former self.

You doubt you’ll ever be whole again.

Forcing yourself out from under the covers, you reach for your phone on the nightstand to check the time before scrolling through your notifications. Nothing was of interest to you, fortunately; you didn’t have the energy to respond to those you suddenly abandoned. Friends who cared about you but realized you were never close to them. Not in the way it used to be.

As you skimmed over the new texts and emails, you then came across his now unsaved number. The moment you stepped on the plane, you deleted his contact from your phone and blocked him. Yet the last messages he sent to you were still there and haven’t been read since, though you already knew what they could entail—

I’m sorry.

It was never my intention to hurt you.

Please give me another chance.

Let me fix this.

Just come back, Y/N. Come back home.

Home. There was that damn word again. You were beginning to loathe it, even more so knowing that whenever you think of home, you wind up thinking of him.

The last time you saw him was the morning after the storm. Booking a one-way ticket back to the east coast, you then spent the early hours packing as many clothes that would fit in a single suitcase. Tears had long since dried up, having none left as you headed down the stairs, ignoring the look he gave you from afar.

He was dressed in the outfit he had on the night prior; his hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and it was quite obvious he endured no sleep. Your resolve nearly crumbles as your gazes connect, bodies close enough that he could reach out the slightest bit, and he’d be holding your hand in the palm of his. 

Fighting the urge, you didn’t cave in. You couldn’t allow yourself to fall for it—for him. 

No, never again.

As expected, he followed you out of the house, remaining quiet as he watched the cab driver load your luggage in the trunk. You paid him no attention when he approached the vehicle once you climbed in, wanting nothing more than to escape this nightmare. With nowhere else to go and no one to turn to, you decided it was best to leave California, not that you belonged there anyway.

It played out like a scene from a movie—the taxi pulling out of the driveway slowly as the raindrops started to fall. Hearing him call out your name, his voice cracking with each syllable, made you hesitate for a beat. Perhaps you could forgive him, you had thought in that split-second. Forgive and forget; let what happened in the past stay in the past. 

But even if you did, the pain’s still there, and it was overpowering. This pain resulting from his deception had been too consuming, too unbearable to move on.

You told the driver to hurry as you couldn’t afford to miss your flight.

The atmosphere in the car was fraught with grim silence. As the house sequestered in the hills vanishes in the rearview mirror, you knew you were running away from it all. You couldn’t stand being here in LA, where every turn, every corner, and every street reminds you of a life that wasn’t truly yours. 

As idyllic it once was, you wanted no part of it anymore. Instead, you sought for familiarity, the life you used to have, the one you could only remember. 

What you thought was your real home.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you had broken down in the backseat, never feeling more alone than you did at that moment.

You wish you could forget, but it’s not that easy. It’s never easy. Memories of him linger in your mind, still tragically fresh as they haunt you day in and day out. Closing your eyes, you could see him wearing this smile that used to make your stomach flutter. You came to love his smile the same way you had loved him wholly. 

Now? Seeing it was a stab to the heart—a reminder of how he took advantage of your condition, your vulnerability. Of every lie you were fed. That smile, the one you previously hoped to wake up to for the rest of your life, had been an act, a facade. 

Everything had been a facade.

A sudden knock on the door startles you, and you clicked off the phone screen before announcing to whoever that they could come in. Your mother Nancy enters soon after, her face displaying concern when she realizes you had just woken up. She’s silent as she walks towards the window and then pushes the curtains aside, the sunlight outside immediately washing over the room. 

Briefly, you squint to adjust to the brightness, a confirmation that it was past noon already—another wasted day.

“Hey, darling,” she speaks softly as she moves to sit on the mattress beside you. “How are you doing?”

There’s no point in lying, but as much as you greatly appreciated her caringness, you didn’t want to burden her with your problems. They were yours to deal with and yours alone. 

“Better.” And that, you were. Just a week ago, you finally stopped crying yourself to sleep. “I might even go out tomorrow and look for a job. Can’t keep freeloading under your roof, right?”

You release a half-chuckle, a small attempt to lighten up the mood. It was comforting when your mother cracks a smile in response.

“Oh, hush. You’re always welcome to stay as long as you need to,” she assures, a loving warmth radiating from her tone. 

Lips pressing together, you sense that she has another thing to address. “What’s wrong?”

Nancy pauses to take a breath, shoulders rising and falling. For some reason, you’re on edge, finding yourself bracing for what was to come.

“Have you spoken to Keanu lately?”

Upon hearing his name, you swallowed away the lump in your throat. After telling your parents what had transpired, it stirred up various emotions—mainly anger from your father, sorrow from your mom. Their hearts sank as you recounted the story, tears blurring your eyes that you couldn’t see their faces. It was a good thing, however; you probably wouldn’t have reached the end.

Since then, they’ve refrained from speaking of him and to him. He’s called the house on a few occasions but could never get past the automated answering machine. Pictures of the two of you hanging on the walls were taken down shortly after the revelation, and you were unsure of who had done it. 

Your parents still couldn’t believe he was capable of such a thing. He had played them the same way you were, twisting the truth and omitting facts. Painting himself in a way that made them think allowing you to stay with him was the best decision when just months before he treated you as if you didn’t matter. 

As if he didn’t love you.

“No.” Curt, you had nothing else to say. 

“He’s a persistent one, I’ll tell you that. Left another message last night,” Nancy comments, feeling her stare as you fiddled with the hands in your lap. The next time she speaks, it’s slow and controlled. She’s careful with her words, wary of how you would react to what she has to say. “Hon, the last time you were here, you told me something. Something that I probably should have mentioned the day you woke up in the hospital.”

You tense, eyes flickering up to hers. “What is it?”

She sighs deeply, her smile fleeting and replaced by a taut frown. “I knew you and Keanu were having… problems. Not the full story, but enough that told me you’ve been unhappy for a while.”

“W-Why didn’t you bring this up then?”

“Because the second I saw him in your hospital room, I could see how much he loves you. How scared he was at the thought of nearly losing you—”

“Pfft, sure he was,” you scoff at the statement in disbelief. “What he did—you don’t do that to someone you love. You don’t lie to them, betray them. Hell, if you had given me a heads up earlier, then it would have saved me all this trouble.”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t you get it? He’s an actor. Of course, he’s good at playing pretend. Got us all believing that things were all sunshine and rainbows. He fucked up and fucked up even more by lying. I’ve always had a bad track record in relationships, so I shouldn’t have been too surprised.”

Tension hangs thickly in the air, an apology murmured at the end of a passing second. You didn’t mean to snap at your mother, to let the anger and betrayal consume you that you began taking it out on others although unwillingly. 

But you were just too goddamn hurt. Every day, the memories are suffocating you despite constantly wishing and pleading for them to disappear. That life, the one you had with Keanu, no longer exists, and yet you were still holding onto the frayed remains of it, not ready to move on—to let go. 

You grieve. You grieve and mourn for the recent past, the happiness and love you experienced in the time you were left unaware. Never have you felt so complete, so content, and much at ease. You had turned a blind eye to the signs, to the small inklings of doubt brewing inside because you thought that there was no way you could get something else as close to this.

Perhaps you were both to blame after all.

“I thought he was different,” you whisper, sorrow flowing from your words. “I thought he was the one. The man I’d settle down with, marry, and then maybe someday, be the father of my kids. We’d build an entire life together, a family, a future. The kind of life where I could look back on it fifty years from now when we’re old and gray and not regret a single thing.”

Feeling your mother’s hand come on top of yours with a light squeeze, you fought off the tears forcing their way from your eyes. You swore you would never shed a tear for Keanu ever again, but you are crumbling from within. The weak walls you put up are now tumbling down, leaving you even more vulnerable than before. 

“I want to hate him. I want him to feel my pain and suffer through it, knowing that he’s the reason why. But I can’t. Somehow, I just can’t.”

“It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him,” Nancy adds solemnly, and you nod shakily. “You’re healing, dear. So far, all you’ve done is put on a bandaid, but it doesn’t mean the wound closes up immediately. It’ll burn, it’ll bleed, and it’ll ache, and right now, that’s what you’re feeling; the pain of a fresh open wound.”

“Make the pain stop,” you mumbled incoherently as you lean against your mom’s side, wet cheeks pressed to her shoulder. “It has to stop.”

“And it will,” she promises, listening to your soft and tired cries. “It’ll take time for the wound to heal, but eventually, it will. Until then, life continues, and you would have to as well. You don’t have to go all-in right away, but don’t let this heartbreak hinder you from living, sweetie. You’re strong, and I believe you will feel that same happiness again, in one form or another. But you won’t find it unless you go out and look for it.”

For the first time in what seemed like a while, you felt something other than loss and despair. It creeps into you slowly, half-expecting a cold, crushing weight to fall heavily on your chest rather than the warmth and light it is. But as quickly as it came, the sensation subsides, a wave of loneliness, emptiness filling the vacant space surrounding your heart.

A shuddering breath released, you then reflect upon what your mother said about time and how time heals all wounds. You wonder how much time is needed until you can finally break free from the remnants of the past and breathe again. Could be days, weeks, or even months more, but it’s right there, waiting for you on the horizon. 

You may not have a place to call home, but what you do have is time.

---

Seconds turn into minutes; minutes turn into hours. The sun sets, the moon rises; bright, blues skies bleed into a fiery red before dimming to an inky darkness. The world spins on its axis as people wake, move, then sleep, and the cycle begins all over again.

Two weeks have come and gone, and life pushes onward. You could tell by the scenery outside where the season of fall has taken charge of the Northeast. Days are shorter, with nights stretching out longer as the year fades into winter. Time was flying by at a brisk pace. Very soon, a blanket of snow will cover the ground you walk on, reminding you to take a step back and admire the natural beauty of mid-November.

The crispness of the late afternoon air is refreshing as it fills your lungs, a welcome change from the hazy summer heat. Leaves that were once lively shades of green are now painted in deep hues of amber and burgundy, and they crunch beneath your boots with each leisure step down the earthy path. The nearby lake is as pristine as ever, sparkling freely underneath the rays of the ochre sun as it waits for the impending frost.

Wandering about outdoors for hours now, you were lost in your stream of thoughts. You honestly felt better, not entirely mended, but just enough that you can step out of the house and explore the quaint little town. A picturesque place, it was a perfect settlement for your retired parents where everyone knew everybody; their faces, names, the street they lived on. Boilding down to more personal details such as knowing the pets they owned, which book club they’re a part of, and any recent travels. 

When the townsfolk saw you, you sensed the feeling of familiarity. Those you passed by in the streets waved at you, and though you couldn’t exactly recall your relationship with them, it made you smile. Recently, old friends and family in the area had begun reaching out after hearing you were back. You never gave them the full explanation, only revealing that things in California did not work out, and you figured it was best to leave. 

Was it a permanent decision? Most likely. Life here is simpler, quieter. You enjoyed the peacefulness, favoring the calm atmosphere of this town much over the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles. It gave you space to think, to focus, to breathe. To reacquaint with yourself, rebuild who you are as a person by taking this journey of self-discovery. 

It’s the brand new start you desperately wanted, needed. An opportunity to find your place in this world without the past holding you back. Without the shadow of the woman you once were looming over you. And if your memories don’t ever return, which deep down, you hope they never would, you would be fine with it. 

You were tired of being stuck searching pieces of the past. You had to live.

Trekking up the gravel road leading to your parents’ home, a black car sits on top of the hill, one that you did not recognize. Perplexed, you approached the house with hesitant steps, dragging your feet through the pile of dead and dry leaves. There was a moment of panic when you noticed a man sitting on the front porch steps, hands clasped on his knees as he hung his head low, a curtain of dark hair masking his identity.

But you don’t need to think twice, for you already know who it is.

“Keanu?”

His name slipping out of your mouth feels different now. Gone is the affectionate tone that it was usually spoken in. It held no meaning, void of any warmth or tenderness. Keanu, the name is bitter on your tongue, a poison that could cause you to spiral down yet again, and saying it out loud brought upon a rage that swirls through your veins.

How dare he show up here unannounced?

As you take your breaths, one… two… three... and out, Keanu straightens his posture and meets your stern glare. Slowly, he gets up, the expression on his face hard to read. But aside from that, he looked worse for wear. The bags underneath his eyes were dark and prominent, the beard on his chin was unruly and untamed. He appears gaunt and exhausted, as if he hasn’t slept a wink ever since you walked out of the door and out of his life.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You’re the first to break the thick silence, a testament of your bravery and strength of some sort. Brows furrowing and teeth gritting in anger, it contrasts with Keanu’s lax demeanor as he steps closer. “No, stay back. You have no right to be here right now.”

“Y/N, please...” He speaks calmly, each and every one of his movements measured. “I’m not here to fight—”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you seethed, shaking your head as you stormed past him and towards the door. Tears brew in your cloudy eyes, a sign of how much he still affected you. Seeing him again after all this time only proved that the wound he had inflicted bleeds to this day.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Keanu quickly trails from behind, his voice dripping with utter desperation. “Please, just… give me a chance to talk. All you have to do is listen, and I promise you won’t ever have to see me again.”

The seriousness in his timbre causes you to halt in your tracks. Swallowing dryly, you turn around, sad, tired eyes reaching his guilt-filled ones. Keanu stands before you with a face written in despair, making him barely recognizable. The way he’s staring at you as if he’s hopeless and in pure anguish is unsettling, and you almost pitied him for it. 

“Y/N…” He pleads softly, defeatedly. “Hear me out, please.”

You wrestled between your options, half apathetic, half curious of what Keanu had to say. Unspoken words on the tip of his tongue, he mutely begs for you to relent, and if this is all it takes for him to leave you alone, leave you for good, then so be it.

“Ten minutes,” you muttered, low enough that he barely catches it at first. Crossing your arms against your chest, the gentle autumn wind rustling through the trees pierces the silent air as you observe Keanu staggering forward, a hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, gazing at you with his searching brown eyes. “I-I know saying it a thousand times won’t make a difference, but I really am sorry. What I did before and after the accident was inexcusable and selfish. I hurt you, and I will never forgive myself that. Don’t expect you to do so, either. You probably hate my guts right now, and flying out here might be a mistake, but I needed to talk to you in person. To say goodbye one last time.”

Brushing his hair back, Keanu then pads over to the trunk of the car, and all you can do is wait for him to come back. It doesn’t take long, but he makes two trips to unload two boxes, setting each of them down in the space separating you two. He instantly notices the confusion etched across your features, burying his hands in his coat pocket with an exhale.

“Are those—”

“All the things you left behind,” Keanu finishes feebly. “Thought you would want them back.”

Stunned, a mirthless chuckle escapes your throat. “You didn’t have to do this. Those aren’t my things anyway.”

“But they are—”

“They’re not mine,” you cut him off with a weary gaze. “Keanu, I’ve said this before; I’m not the woman you fell in love with. Not anymore. Look, throughout those months we spent together, I tried to fit into this life everyone told me I had. A life that’s far from what I was used to. God, it feels like a dream being her. So confident, happy, and successful. Waking up from the coma, of course, I would want that. I had just gotten out of a terrible relationship which left me broken and unworthy of anything and anyone. Then you showed me the love I thought I didn’t deserve, and it kept me from realizing that it was all too good to be true.”

Eyes faltering to the ground, your fingers fumbled with the hem of your sweater, ultimately distracting yourself from the tears threatening to fall. “The truth is, I didn’t know you. You were, are, a stranger to me. You had done things behind my back, hid details that would have been a deal-breaker, but you didn’t care. I’ve thought about it a lot lately; would I have stayed if you told me from the very beginning. I wasn’t sure if I was madder at you kissing someone else, knowing how much it would hurt me, or the fact that you lied to fix this—us.”

There is a moment of silence that weighs over everything. The wind stops blowing; the leaves are motionless. Time seems to slow around you and Keanu as he waits for your next words. Words that you are still searching for since you hadn’t prepared to voice those thoughts out loud. They all came rushing, flooding like a broken dam, too overwhelming to keep at bay. 

“Which one is it?” Keanu probes delicately, equally afraid of which answer you’re going to give.

“Neither,” you revealed, surprisingly. “I’m angrier at myself for falling too fast; for being the naive little girl who let herself be fooled, who refused to listen to her instincts even though she knew they were usually right.”

You see Keanu open his mouth to speak, but you weren’t done. “I always believed this accident was a curse. It erased years worth of memories that, at this point, I’ll never get back. But now, I see the good that came out of it. Our fights, our arguments, they were all signs that our relationship was falling apart, but I couldn’t let go of it—of you. I held onto us thinking the bad will just phase out eventually when in reality, I couldn’t bear giving up on you and this life we shared.”

Another pause. “Huh, funny. Looking at it, the same thing happened all over again.”

With that said, you felt relieved, somewhat lighter. Despite previous inclinations, you didn’t shout or yell at Keanu. Nor did you discuss to the fullest extent of the suffering you’ve endured. Strangely, it was nearly therapeutic admitting all of that to him, to yourself. For months, you had been unable to let go and accept the truth, allowing fear and doubt to control your actions. 

But that was then, and this is now. 

And now, it was time for you to be free.

“Guess this is it,” Keanu sighs dejectedly. He didn’t come here to win you back, knowing there’s nothing that he could do or say to repair the damage. Like you, he’s letting go, letting this be the closure he needs, and you need as well. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly, “Guess this is goodbye.”

Before you could leave his sight to spare Keanu the awkwardness, he holds up a finger, signaling you to wait a second. Swiftly, he goes to retrieve something that’s lying on the front seat, something that you’ve spent countless hours flipping through. He then reluctantly passes it over to you, and you’re unsure what to do with it.

“Your pictures,” he points out, though you were already aware. “I’m not trying to be an asshole or anything by giving this, but this book is yours. Keep it, burn it, do whatever seems right to you. But I want you to know, to remember, that I did love you. I still do, and these photos are proof of it, even if you can’t bring yourself to believe that I’m telling the truth. You deserve love and to be loved, Y/N. More than anything in the universe. I fucked up my chance to be the one to tell you that every day, but it doesn’t mean the next person you fall for will.”

“Ke…” your voice suddenly breaks with emotion, uncertain of what to add after his statement. It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him, your mother’s earlier words echo in your mind, ringing true in your heart. Even after everything, a piece of you still loved Keanu, and saying goodbye to him more painful than you anticipated.

As you stand frozen, Keanu inches nearer until he’s by your feet, the palm of his hand coming to rest on your cheek. He strokes your face with a tender caress before tilting your chin upwards to meet his gaze, brushing his thumb along your lower lip gently. You allow him to have this moment, to hold you and study you for a final time, commit you to memory as this would be the last. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you feel him press a soft kiss on your forehead, the warmth of it immediately spreading throughout your body before he slowly pulls away.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” Keanu says, opening the driver’s side door of his rental. You look at each other once more and see the subtle, hopeful smile he shoots your way. “And don’t be afraid to love again.”

You watch as he starts driving away, opting to wait until the car is finally out of view before releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

In your hands is a keepsake of your memories. A collection of captured moments that you had cherished so dearly. But things are different now; mistakes were made, words were said, people have grown apart. You found no reason to linger in the past when there’s nothing left to salvage. 

Nothing left to do but heal.

The warmth of Keanu’s kiss eventually disappears, the world around you unpausing, continuing as it was before. You stay standing in place, glancing back and forth between the book you clutched on tightly and the boxes laying on the ground. 

Yet in the quietude, the wind still blows. The leaves still fall, and the earth still spins.

Time resumes, bit by bit; passing for life to move forward— 

For you to move on.

Part 13

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[rabbithaver]

i have known for awhile that i'm completely replaceable and forgettable. it isn't just my depression saying this. it is actual quantifiable fact. in the past 23 years of my life, i've just been finding more and more evidence that proves this to be true, so you think i would be used to it by now. you'd think it would have stopped hurting by now. after two decades i've had countless experiences proving that no one would notice if i vanished completely from the face of the Earth, but every time it happens, it still cuts deep.

last Friday i caught a seven day ban on Facebook, meaning i am unable to post, comment, react to or like other posts, share posts to my feed for others to see, moderate the groups i run, or even edit old posts. i can’t do ANYTHING except message other people. so for the past week i have been completely silent. inactive. i even deleted the app from my phone so i couldn't instinctively go back and scroll through my feed.

i am much more active on Facebook than anywhere else. i have about 400 friends on my Facebook account, and i often share posts (memes, stories, etc) for them to see. i will share other posts or make my own up to 60 times a day, and it’s extremely rare for me to go radio silent for more than 24 hours. in the past, when i’ve gone quiet, they’ve noticed and checked on me.

they didn’t notice this time. at all. not one person out of the 400 people on my friends list has noticed. if they did notice they never said anything. maybe they didn't care. or maybe they were even relieved that they had a break from me. maybe they're hoping that if they stay quiet, i'll never come back

when i'm having a hard time and posting about it to vent, sometimes my friends say that they always notice when i’m gone because they have my posts marked under ‘Favorites.’ when you mark a person as a ‘Favorite’, their posts will always appear at the top of your feed when you log in -- basically, their posts are given priority over others. this means that the absence of my posts should be very clear. maybe they somehow missed it. though... a horrible part of me wonders if they were just lying out of pity.

in just 3 hours, the ban will be over. it's been seven days since i last posted, liked, commented, or shared, and... nothing. nobody has reached out. nobody has commented on an old post checking that i'm okay. nobody has tagged me, asking if something is wrong. nobody has DMed me. nobody has made a post of their own. hell, nobody has even reached out to my mom to ask if i'm even still alive.

i know they probably have things going on in their own lives, the world is busy and all. but... some of these people are my best friends... and none of them have even realized ive been gone. i know it isn't out of malice; none of them would try to hurt me on purpose like that. they're good people.

it happens on Tumblr, too. every single time my blog has gone inactive for months at a time, when my queue has run out completely, nobody has send in asks or messages. nobody has missed me. it makes sense, though. most people follow well over a thousand other blogs. i'm just a name to them. i'm just a name to you.

it isn't just on the internet. it happens in real life, in almost every single relationship i have with other people. why? it's who i am as a person. i am forgettable. i am replaceable. i am not special in any way. my mediocrity is the only trait i possess that isn't negative.

any possible good quality i could have is worthless because every single person i will ever meet in my entire life is going to know someone better than me. maybe i'm funny sometimes? well, Brad is funnier. maybe i'm okay at drawing? well, Melvin, Steven, and Sarah are all a billion times more skilled. maybe my writing is slightly better than the average person's? yeah, well, that doesn't fucking matter, because everyone on the face of the fucking planet is going to know someone who's a billion times better, so i'd be wasting my time publishing anything.

when people do remember me, it's for the horrible shit i've done. it's for the way i've treated them both in the past and now. it's for the faux pas. it's for the horrible beliefs i held growing up. it's for the biases i still hold now and can't seem to shake. it's for the countless awful social habits i've developed that i can't seem to kick. it's for the endless ways i have disappointed them. it's for the pity they've had for me. it's for the horrible shit i've said to people when i'm in distress. it's for the times i've fucked up so badly in public that they've suffered the worst second-hand embarrassment of their life. it's for my inability to grow as a person. it's for the fact that i am apparently too fucking stupid to unlearn all the awful habits and traits i've picked up from growing up in a conservative family. it's for my abusive personality. it's for my manipulative behavior. it's for the public breakdowns. it's for the failed friendships. it's for my impulsive behavior. it's for my lack of a brain-mouth barrier. it's for my abusers, who i have emulated in all of the worst ways. it's for my refusal to take responsibility for my actions. it's for my tendency to run away from the conflicts i can't handle. it's for the guilt-tripping. it's for my ugly face. it's for the disgust they feel when looking at my body. it's for my complete inability to shut the FUCK up about shit nobody cares about. it's for the fact that i am a judgemental prick. it's for the fact that i am inherently worthless. it's for the fact that i haven't changed in years -- i'm still the exact same piece of shit i've been since middle school. it's for the fact that i somehow get away with every single fuck up, every single argument, every single horrible insult. it's for the fact that i relapse over and over and never make any progress in recovery. it's for the fact that i have never, ever, EVER been good enough. it's for the fact that they're afraid of saying how much they dislike me because they don't want to trigger my worthless fucking feelings. it's for the fact that i brainwash people into caring about me, into thinking i'm a good person with value. it's for the fact that i manipulate people into thinking a friendship with me is a good idea. it's for the fact that i trap people in my life and dont allow them to move on and find someone better.

when people remember me, it's because i am worse than my abusers in every single fucking way. i am just as stupid, angry, bitter, hateful, toxic, manipulative, and dangerous to be around as they were, if not worse. and the best part? they were doing it on purpose. i'm like this because it's intrinsic to who i am. if it wasn't, the years of energy i've put into trying to better myself would've made a difference. they didn't. i really am Like that.

one of these days i'll get over my fears and do myself -- and everyone else -- a favor. if i'm dead they don't have to feel bad about forgetting i exist. if i'm dead, i can't hurt anybody. if i'm dead, i can't trap every single person in my life in a friendship they feel too guilty to escape. if i'm dead they don't have to worry about forgetting me. if i'm dead they don't have to see my stupid 23498234-paragraph-long posts. if i'm dead, they don't have to hear me talk for hours about the stupid shit i like. if i'm dead, they can move on without fearing that i'll panic over being "abandoned." if i'm dead they can be happy. i just need to stop being afraid of pain and i can fix it for everybody.

when people remember me, it's because they wish they never met me.

[pogueman]

Pogue: Here's what Snapchat is all about

Today is a big day: The company that created Snapchat, that baffling (to parents) smash hit (among teens), is going public. It’s expected to be a huge stock offering, offered at $17 a share, making the company worth $24 billion.

This, you understand, is for a company whose growth stalled last year, whose software features have been copied by Instagram, and whose losses keep growing—It lost $515 million last year, and $373 the year before.

All of which might make you wonder more than ever: What the hell is SnapChat?

Here’s an explainer.

Meet Snapchat

Every year, there’s another app that everyone talks about, that gets bought for a billion dollars, whose name gets tossed around in articles as though we’re all familiar. It’s enough to give you app-hype fatigue.

I don’t use Snapchat. And no wonder: Most people who use it are under 25, and 70% of them are female. I’m neither.

At the same time, I’ve been dying to understand Snapchat. I mean, it’s a major cultural force. Somewhere between 100 million and 200 million people are using it every day. They send 20,000 photos a second, and watch 8 billion videos a day.

So I decided to dive in, to talk to people, to pound on this app until I finally understood its absolutely baffling layout.

Here, for the benefit of people who don’t understand Snapchat, is what I discovered.

Lesson one: Snapchat is really three apps crammed in one.

Function 1: Self-destructing messages

First, Snapchat’s most famous purpose is to let you send self-erasing photos to people.

To be more precise, it lets you snap a picture or record a 10-second video, dress it up with funny overlays, type and format a caption, draw on it with your finger and then send it to specified friends. Once they’ve seen your snap once, it disappears.

Or you can post them publicly to your time line (here called your Story), just as on Facebook or Instagram. The difference is that whatever you post vanishes after 24 hours.

For non-teenagers, the whole concept is a little bizarre. Why would you take photos and videos knowing that they’ll disappear after one viewing? Isn’t the whole purpose of photos and videos to capture cherished memories to be viewed years from now?

Here’s my theory: Deep down, Snapchat’s appeal has to do with teenage angst and insecurity.

Usually, what you post online is there forever. It can come back to haunt you. Everything on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, the Web, text messages, email—it will always be there for people to judge you. Your parents might see it. A college admissions officer. A prospective employer.

But Snapchat takes the pressure off. If your snap is goofy or badly framed or embarrassing or incriminating—you don’t care! Post it anyway. No employer or principal or parent will ever find it and disapprove.

Furthermore, there are no comments, no Like buttons, no counts of how many friends you have. No judgment.

All of this gives Snapchat an honesty, an authenticity, and an immediacy that the other social media apps lack—and that millennials love.

The screenshot loophole

It is true, by the way, that if someone sends you a Snapchat photo, you can take a screenshot of it before it disappears, thereby preserving it forever and defeating the whole purpose of Snapchat. (To take a screenshot, you press sleep button+Home on the iPhone, volume-down + Home on most Android phones.)

The app does notify the sender that you screenshot the image before it disappeared. But still: Who would risk sending naughty stuff, knowing that it could be captured?

One good answer came from a respondent on Quora: “If you don’t trust someone to not take advantage of you, don’t send them that snap—it’s really that easy.”

Another came from a high-schooler I interviewed: “Nobody really thinks that the point of Snapchat is to send messages that will delete…unless it’s something secret or embarrassing, I guess. Anyway, I don’t think people care if you screenshot something.”

Either way, the screenshot loophole doesn’t seem to bother anyone.

One more exception: Once a day, you can watch one snap one more time in case you missed it. Incredibly, you can also pay money for the ability to view snaps again (three replays for a dollar). Mostly, nobody bothers. (“I did not even know that was feature. Neither did my cousins—noted avid Snapchat users,” said my high-school source.)

Function 2: Standard chat program

Many teenagers use Snapchat constantly. They send many, many snaps. They live in the app.

The Snapchat folks only have fanned that flame by adding text, voice, and video chat capabilities to the app. You can have a conversation by typing, by talking, or by video calling.

These communications also disappear, once both parties have read them.

Function 3: A news app

The third face of Snapchat’s personality is its recent incarnation as a news app. Online publications can post their own stuff for you to read: ESPN, Comedy Central, BuzzFeed, People, National Geographic, CNN, and many others.

What does any of this publishing stuff have to do with chatting with friends or sending self-destructing photos?

Beats the heck out of me. Probably has something to do with Snapchat trying to make money.

How to use Snapchat

Snapchat wins no awards for ease of use. In fact, it’s incredibly hard to figure out, filled with unlabeled icons and confusingly arrayed screens.

(Maybe that, too, is part of the appeal to teenagers. Every generation of teens has its secret, proprietary culture—slang, music, rituals—deliberately designed to shut out or mystify their parents. Maybe mastering Snapchat’s bizarre layout makes its fans feel like insiders in an exclusive club.)

In any case, Functions 2 and 3 are easy to use. To read the articles posted by media organizations, tap the menu button (lower right) to see the names of the magazines and Web sites, and tap your way in to start reading.

And it’s easy to use the chat feature. Tap the lower-left corner of the camera screen to access your list of contacts, and then tap one to start typing or calling.

That leaves us with only the Big One, the primary Snapchat feature, the really fun one: Sending self-deleting photos and videos.

Here’s how it goes.

When you first open the app, its camera screen appears. It works just like your phone’s regular camera app. Tap the upper-right camera button to use the phone’s front-facing camera to take a selfie, which is usually the point. Touch the big round shutter button to take the photo. (Or hold it down for up to 10 seconds to record a video.)

All Snapchat photos and videos are vertical, by the way; nobody turns the phone 90 degrees to take or view them.

Once you’ve snapped a shot, the real fun begins: Dressing it up.

* Apply a filter. Swipe horizontally to apply a color filter—to impose a blue or green tint to the whole thing, for example.

* Stamp some stickers. At the top right, the square icon shown here opens a page of emoji-like faces. Tap to stamp one on your photo. At that point, you can drag the “sticker” around to move it or pinch/spread with two fingers to enlarge it or shrink it.

* Type some text. When you tap the Text icon, the keyboard opens. Type a caption and then Done. Now you can drag with your finger to slide the caption up or down the photo.

Or maybe you’d prefer giant lettering. To do that, tap the T to make the text huge. Once it’s huge, tap the text itself to open a page with a color slider, so you can change its color.

* Draw on the photo. Tap the pencil icon to draw or write on the shot with your finger. Once again, a slider appears so you can specify the color.

* Put on a virtual mask. You’d never in a million years stumble onto this feature without being told, but it’s hilarious and fun: Snapchat can turn you into a gorilla or a Viking or a bobblehead, either as a still or a video.

To see these software “masks,” the trick is to hold your finger down on your own face in the live camera view. After a moment, a grid out of a sci-fi movie appears on your face, and icons for virtual masks fills the bottom of the screen. Tap one to try it out. (They change all the time, for variety.) Some come with instructions, like “open your mouth,” which triggers a funny animation.

When you’ve got a look you like, snap it as a photo or video just as you normally would—by touching or holding your finger down on the round button on the screen.

(I would have written that these virtual masks are so witty, new, and interesting, it’s worth installing Snapchat just to try them out—except that MSQRD is a free app that does exactly the same thing, with even better animations and smarts and without all the extra clutter of Snapchat. If you have a child and an upcoming car ride, you must download MSQRD.)

Finally, you’re ready to post your masterpiece. For this, you use the icons in the lower-left corner of the screen:

* Seconds. The lower-left icon specifies how many seconds your recipients will have to view your masterpiece before it disappears.

* Save. Your friends aren’t supposed to keep copies of your photos, but it’s OK for you to keep them. Tap the Save button to preserve it in your phone’s photo collection.

* Post to your Story. Story is Snapchat’s name for your time line or newsfeed, much like your Facebook wall or your Instagram feed. It’s a way for you to make your snaps viewable to your entire social circle (which you specify in settings)—although anything on your Story page disappears after 24 hours. This is Snapchat, after all.

Now you get it?

As you now know, the first Snapchat mystery—how do you use it?—is easily solved, once you have a cheat sheet.

As for the second mystery—why do people use it?—it helps to be a teenager. But if you’re not, your answer lies in the same qualities that have made hits out of any super-hyped app in recent years: convenience, delight, popularity among your friends, and—in Snapchat’s case—a sense that whatever you do, you won’t someday regret what you’ve sent into the electronic ether.

  David Pogue, tech columnist for Yahoo Finance, welcomes non-toxic comments in the Comments below. On the Web, he’s davidpogue.com. On Twitter, he’s @pogue. On email, he’s poguester@yahoo.com. You can read all his articles here (http://finance.yahoo.com/news/david-pogue/), or you can sign up to get his columns by email (http://j.mp/P4Qgnh).